If the days of the week were a color, Emily decided that Monday was definitely a very melancholy shade of blue.

It would be the type of blue on her baby blanket that her grandmother had knit for her first Christmas, or the type of blue that JJ's quaint sedan sitting in the parking deck was coated with. Or it would be the blue of Hotch's tie of the day. he seemed to wear darker colors on Mondays, and Emily wondered if he too was taking the colors of the week into consideration when picking out what to wear.

Emily snorted to herself as she flipped a paper over on her desk. Hotch was a no nonsense guy, and no-nonsense guys definitely didn't worry about the color of their ties and how it would match the mood of the day. If he had any idea that she was actually spending time trying to decide what shade of blue this Monday was, he'd probably smile that little half grin, and shake his head slightly that was reserved for when she was thinking about something too hard, or when Reid had just gone on a five minute rambling monologue about a certain topic that no one had really asked about.

"Workin hard, or hardly workin, pretty boy?"

Emily pulled her head up from her paperwork to gaze across the aisle to where Morgan was staring at Reid, who, admittedly, looked like he was doing anything but what he was supposed to be doing.

"Yeah, Reid, if me and Morgan have to suffer through this you gotta pull your weight too." Emily smirked, watching the genius purse his lips and expose the cross word puzzle he was currently focused on.

"I finished all my reports. Am I allowed to relax now?"

"What the hell, how did you finish your stack already?" Morgan said, the exasperation in his voice rising. "There's so many!"

"Yeah, it really wasn't that challenging, just a lot of copying." Reid mumbled, burying his nose back into the newspaper he was hiding on his lap.

"There's no way he got the same amount as us." Emily rolled her eyes, lifting her exhausted body from the comfort of her chair to investigate Reid's desk.

The team had had a very long week. Back to back cases were rare, but the BAU had caught two similar cases, one right after the other, and now it was time to play catch up with the administrative part of the job, the part that Emily hated more than anything. Morgan, Reid, and herself usually got stuck with the worst of it, considering JJ had her own cases to review and Hotch had a billion other responsibilities, and Rossi...well somehow the wise old trickster always managed to get out of these things.

Either Hotch had a soft spot for his old mentor, or he had given up on trying to persuade Rossi into doing his busy work. Probably both.

"This is definitely less." Emily teased, lifting the stack of papers from Reid's desk and weighing them in her hands.

"The lack of sleep from the case is getting to you, your delusions are out of control." Reid smiled back, his eyes glinting. Emily was always happy to see Reid teasing her back, even if he was doing it innocently.

"Oooh, kids, look who's here." Morgan whispered, leaning closer to the duo while motioning over to the center of the bullpen. Reid and Emily followed his eyes, and both quieted when they saw the Section Chief weaving through the desks en route to Hotch's office.

Emily noted the deep shade of blue on Strauss' sweater. At least someone else was having a case of the melancholy Mondays.

Strauss wasn't alone, though. There was a very tall fair-skinned man dressed in an expensive looking suit trailing behind her. With every step he took, Emily could almost hear the squeak of his well-polished leather shoes that tapped against the hard floor.

"Wonder who that is." Reid said, hardly looking up from the crossword that had captivated his attention once again.

"Well, whoever it is, they better be here to tell us they're taking us off rotation for a bit, the B team can take some cases." Emily muttered, watching as Hotch stood behind his desk and opened the door when he noticed Strauss climbing the stairs to where he was.

"Doubt it." Morgan replied. "Seems like Bossman was expecting her. You know what that means."

Emily groaned. Morgan was right. Usually if Hotch knew that Strauss had called a meeting, they would be taking another case in the very near future, and usually a high-status one at that.

Strauss disappeared into Hotch's office, and Emily was slightly thrown off guard when she saw her boss close the blinds.

"That's weird." She said, jutting her chin towards the window. "He never closes his blinds."

"Yeah, he likes to watch us work." Reid stated matter-of-factly.

"Us?" Morgan snorted before passing a look over at Emily, who narrowed her eyes. "Nah, Reid, not us."

"You have to be joking." Emily rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore the small blush that was coloring her fair cheeks. She and Hotch weren't involved, especially since his split with Haley was still extremely fresh, but their friendship had grown leaps and bounds in a very short amount of time. When she joined the team about a year ago, she could never have guessed that Hotch would have voluntarily wanted to talk with her, much less be in the same room with her outside of a professional capacity, but now she found that she was almost as close with him as she was with Morgan, Reid, or JJ even. He was incredibly easy to talk to, and he sometimes she felt like he would try to get her to open up about what was going on in her life just to make sure she was okay. Emily really didn't enjoy being examined in such an intimate way, but it was nice when he'd stop her by the coffee pot and ask her about her weekend.

Not to mention that she had actually felt heavy tension a few times during their conversations, and not the bad kind. Sometimes, she felt like their language and body movement was so charged that everyone had to notice. She couldn't be the only one.

"Just playin'." Morgan smiled, and Emily gently punched his upper arm.

"Good. I don't trust your matchmaker abilities."

"You're cutting me deep, Princess." He said, grasping his chest in faux pain, which only gifted him another eye roll from Emily.

"Agent Prentiss?"

At the sound of Strauss's voice, Emily felt her stomach churn. She and her Section Chief really hadn't had a good start, considering Strauss had only hired her to get Hotch fired, and even though that was smoothed over, things were still quite icy between the two women. And if she was calling her into Hotch's office with closed blinds and an official looking stranger, it seemed like a pretty big deal.

Emily turned towards Strauss, who was leaning out of Hotch's office, waving her hand to beckon Emily over.

"What'd you do." Reid asked again in monotone; not truly engaged in what was happening.

"Nothing." Emily hissed, feeling on edge as she left her files on her desk before striding over to the steps that lead up to Hotch's office. As she approached, she felt Strauss's eyes rake over her frame, and Emily was suddenly aware of the length and tight fit of her simple black dress.

"Ma'am?" She replied sincerely once she reached where Strauss was hovering.

"Come in, please."

The anxiety that was brewing in Emily's core suddenly plummeted, sending cold fear down her thighs. Was she getting fired? She hadn't done anything questionable, maybe it was budget cuts? Maybe she had done something and she just didn't realize...

Emily forced herself to swallow and nod before pulling her shoulders back and gliding into Hotch's office with one step.

She was immediately off-put by the energy in the room. Hotch was standing in front of his desk, his brow furrowed, arms crossed in front of his chest. The mystery man was planted near the window, his back leaning against the smooth walls of the interior, a smooth manila folder clutched in his hand.

Emily shot Hotch a look, but his expression didn't reveal anything except for a small lift of his eyebrow. He could tell she was nervous.

"Agent Prentiss, I presume?" The man in the suit said, his voice flat and slightly cold. Emily felt his eyes do a once-over on her and she subconsciously tugged at the hem of her dress, attempting to make the skirt length reach down to a more modest cut.

Pulling her shoulders back, she tipped her head in acknowledgment. "Yes, sir, may I ask who you are?"

The man twisted his mouth and moved from his position on the wall, passing a glance over to Strauss and Hotch who were standing across the room. Emily's cheeks burned at the silent communication that she was obviously not privy to, but she stood up straight and tried to watch the man with an expressionless gaze.

Who the hell was this guy?

"Are you sure about this?" The man said, his eyes running over Emily again, but definitely wasn't talking to her.

Hotch didn't reply if the question was aimed at him, he just kept his arms crossed and his mouth shut.

"Yes, this is the best option for the situation. I can assure you that Agent Prentiss is more than qualified for this." Strauss answered finally, turning her back to Emily whilst talking about her as if she wasn't in the room.

Emily's patience broke.

"Not to be rude or interrupt anything but, what exactly are we talking about?"

All three of them seemed to share a look that was once again not meant for Emily. She was trying not to let her frustration win, but every second that they kept her in the dark was a second that she'd have to stay after quitting time to make up the work she was missing out on right now. She ground the tip of her heel into the carpet, reminding herself that she would only make things worse by saying something.

"Agent Prentiss, my name is Peter Carrison, and I work in the State Department as a Foreign Service Officer. Do you know what that means?"

Emily left air out her nose. She was really trying not to scoff. Her mother was an Ambassador, she knew exactly how the State Department worked; a little too well even. The condescending tone of Carrison wasn't really helping with her patience either.

"Yes, sir. My mother worked very closely with Foreign Service Officers throughout her career."

Carrison just bobbed his head, and took a step closer to her, stuffing his free hand in his pocket. "Good. Chief Strauss and Agent Hotchner tell me you're multilingual, and you have a specialty with Arabic-based languages, is that correct?"

"Yes, that is correct." Emily replied, raising her eyebrow at Hotch. Her boss once again deflected her attempt for subtle conversation, and she was struck with how truly uncomfortable he was. It was seriously throwing her off.

"Excellent." Carrison said, but his tone was still very even. "Alright Agent Prentiss, Agent Hotchner, please take a seat."

Emily wanted to ask an abundance of questions, but she had a feeling she was about to get an earful and all her inquiries would be answered soon. She settled into the couch near the wall of Hotch's office, where he had sat first and wiggled over to make room for her.

She accidentally brushed her thigh against his knuckles as she crossed her legs at the knee, and she immediately noted how he was slow to pull his hand back, but once he had he clutched it tightly in his lap. Emily wasn't really one for profiling her teammates, but Derek was right. Hotch had been giving her a little extra attention lately, and while it was nothing sexual, much less romantic, she could feel a tug in their relationship that hadn't been there before.

Strauss and Carrison pulled up the stiff-straight office chairs across from the sofa and adjusted the placement so all four of them were in a tightly knit group.

"Now, Agent Prentiss, I already explained what I'm about to tell you to both Chief Strauss and Agent Hotchner, but just because I'm revealing this to you last doesn't mean you're any less important for what I'm asking of." He cleared his throat and rested the folder on his lap.

"Okay."

He exchanged a fleeting look with Strauss before clearing his throat yet again. "Recently, the conflict between Al Qaeda and our troops has calmed, relatively. There have been a decrease in deaths in the past month and there hasn't been a major loss of civilian life in a few weeks. That doesn't mean that nothing is going on, but there has been a slight lull in activity."

Emily wrinkled her brow, her mind working furiously to try to figure out where the man was going with this before he got to the point.

"However, two nights ago, a military officer; Sergeant Brown was abducted from a Baghdad market place in broad daylight, no trace of evidence and no witnesses, surprisingly. Other members of his battalion said that he had gone down to patrol a block slightly out of sight and hadn't come back. Now, this sort of thing happens quite often to troops, but usually during combat and not in the middle of the day in a busy city square. The Army was going to handle this in house like it does normally, that was until the Sergeant's body was found in an alleyway not 24 hours later, with this note attached to his tattered clothing."

Carrison removed a photo from his folder and handed it over to Emily. She ran her fingertips over the slippery edges of the photograph before focusing on the words depicted on a small slip of paper encased in a plastic evidence bag.

It read: No Good.

"What does that mean?" Emily questioned, focusing in on the edges of the paper. They were torn and bloody, as if someone had wiped their gory hands all over the slip before attaching it to Brown.

"We're not sure. And the fact that it's in English makes us think that Al Qaeda might not be responsible, and if they are then it means that either they're using someone fluent in English to be a mediator of sorts or a native English speaker is helping on their grounds. Using this information, the officers in charge contacted the State Department, and we dug around just a bit to see if we could uncover anything helpful, and it turns out that a tiny but noticeable number of Baghdad's population has suddenly disappeared, no deaths, no bodies, nothing. We're fearing the worst, that Al Qaeda might not be at fault and there might be an even larger threat looming for not only the troops overseas but everyone here at home as well."

"What was the cause of death?"

Carrison sighed. "That's the thing, we don't know. He has defensive wounds all over and there were traces of skin under his nails, but the DNA evidence was inconclusive. Nothing showed up in the toxicology report either."

Emily cocked her head. "So, do we need a profile? Is that what this is about?"

Carrison glanced over to Hotch, who wasn't giving anything away. Emily felt a knot pull in the pit of her stomach. She was getting an idea of why Carrison had asked her about her linguistic abilities when they had first called her in.

"There is a small task-force being assembled to work on this murder and recent disappearances without disturbing military activity. The government is pulling a few people from the CIA, ex-Marines, and they requested we add criminal profilers to the mix."

Emily whipped her head over to Hotch, her dark tendrils falling over her shoulders. "Hotch, what's going on?"

For the first time since she had been in the room, her boss spoke. "Prentiss, it's alright, just listen to him."

She bit her lip anxiously, feeling her palms begin to sweat and the muscles in her calves tighten. Why couldn't Carrison just cut to the chase already?

"Both you and Agent Hotchner have been requested by name to join this task-force. You would be staying on an army base with American troops outside of Baghdad, but you'd only be working with the other members of your team. There's no set time estimate for this, but we're expecting it to be resolved in a timely manner."

"So...you're asking Agent Hotchner and I to uproot our lives and go to Iraq? When?"

"Prentiss." Strauss scolded from her spot, barely lifting her eyes.

"You would be departing from Dulles next Monday at 5pm. The trip has a connecting flight in Spain, and altogether the trip would be around 16 hours. Travel expenses are taken care of, except for transportation to the airport." Carrison answered, his voice never raising an octave.

"Is this required?" Emily asked, making sure to keep the sting out of her words. She wasn't trying to be difficult, truly, she was mostly just at a loss. She could understand why they would want Hotch, and she supposed her language experience would make her appealing, but this was a lot to ask.

Well, she supposed, looking down at the photograph again, there was a lot at stake.

Carrison cleared his throat for a third time. "Well, no, but I don't think the Director would be delighted to hear you turned down something like this. Plus, Agent Hotchner has already agreed to go."

Emily shot a look over to her boss, who was watching her now. Well, at least she knew why he had been so pissed when she had entered his office.

"I'm also required to let you know you would be the single female agent working in a highly male-centric base with male team members. I'm actually almost positive no female troops are stationed there at the moment, considering the base is very small in size. I have no doubts that you'll be perfectly safe, though. You're a capable woman and you're in good hands."

Emily didn't miss how Hotch tensed at Carrison's disclaimer. That twitch was enough to tell her that her presence had been a topic of debate, and that Hotch was wary of bringing her into something like this.

Half of her was happy that he was thinking critically and looking out for her, but the other half flared with annoyance. She WAS more than capable, she was well aware of that.

She shook her head and picked at her thumb nail viciously. The case was intriguing, and it had the possibility to be highly dangerous. They wouldn't have asked her if they didn't think so, that she knew for sure.

"I..." She started, cutting off when she glanced back down at the picture resting on the hem of her dress. The fiery crimson almost burned her irises.

"Okay." She said finally, her voice hardly audible. "Okay, I'll go."

Carrison offered her what seemed to be his version of a triumphant smirk.

"I'm pleased to hear that Agent Prentiss. It's good to have you on board."

...

Strauss and Carrison left shortly after giving Hotch and Emily the specifics on their traveling details and housing situation, and Emily had to admit she was beginning to regret agreeing to anything considering the sheer amount of pressure that was being placed on she and Hotch's shoulders. It's not like she couldn't handle it; her previous assignments in the CIA had steeled her for some of the most grisly BAU cases, and she knew this would be nothing different, just on a larger scale.

With more at stake.

And more of a chance that she wouldn't return in one piece.

Emily hadn't exited Hotch's office with the others, she was rooted in her spot on the couch, running her eyes over the photograph absent-mindedly. She sensed that Hotch wanted to talk once they had left, but she was starting to doubt her ability to have any semblance of a real conversation.

"I'm sorry."

Emily peered up at her boss, who had gotten up from next to her and was now sitting directly in front of her. He wasn't nearly as rigid as he had been about five minutes ago, but he was still holding tension in his body, and the way his jaw locked after his apology told Emily that he was anxious; probably just as much as she was.

She snorted slightly and shook her head. "For what? You didn't do anything."

"I could have told them to find someone else."

"Hotch, it's fine. I understand. I'll be fine." She lifted her eyes to study his expression. He was staring into her, his arms folded across his chest.

"Besides," she said as she crossed her legs again, "nothing's going to happen to me as long as you're there, not with the way you tend to hover."

Any other day, Emily would have never have said something like that to Hotch, considering she could easily get in serious trouble for the most innocent of comments. But he was worried, not only about her, but about himself too, and Emily figured at least trying to lighten the mood couldn't do any harm.

"I don't hover."

She was rewarded with a small but genuine grin.

"A little bit."

"It's my job to hover."

She raised her eyebrow. "Okay, maybe you got me there."

"Are you sure you're alright with this?"

"Yeah," she nodded, lifting her gaze back up to meet his, "it'll be like camp."

"Yeah, camp."

Emily sighed, sliding the picture back into the folder that Carrison had left for reference, and pushed off the squishy cushion of the sofa that had formed around her body, smoothing down the skirt of her dress just in case.

"So, I guess I should finish all those reports before we leave." She said.

Hotch half-grinned again, knowing full well how much she and Morgan suffered during office days. "Yeah, finish what you can, if there's any left we'll give them to Reid, he looks pretty bored down there with his crossword."

Emily smiled. Sometimes she forgot how in tune Hotch was with every member of the team. He just knew.

"Prentiss." He called after her as she was beginning to walk out the door again. "I'll pick you up when we leave. You're on the way to the airport anyways, it'll just make things easier when we get back."

She nodded in agreement.

"Okay."

...